Kids with Guns
by dropDead-Dreamer
Summary: They take what they want. Agon/Sena & Hiruma/Sena
1. Chapter 1

**This is a fun idea I've been keeping held up for, like, FOREVER. Please enjoy~**

**And please respond the the POLL on my homepage!!!**

**Disclaimer: I claim ownership to nothing consisting of the nature of the orginal flow of Eyeshield 21**

Sena gasped before raking his teeth across a dry tongue attempting to remove the fowl taste in his mouth.

The scary guy, who was even more imitating close up, sneered throwing the gag over his shoulder. It landed on top of an empty bag of some genetic chip brand unfolding slightly, seeming almost as relieved to be away from Sena as he was from it.

Meanwhile Scary Guy pulled out a knife from seemly nowhere and started to cut at the ropes binding Sena's legs together. He nearly cried out loud, wincing as pens and needles crawled up his cramped legs along with snakes of intense pain right underneath his left calf.

Just then the ground fell away leaving Sena hanging in the air for a moment before returning, slamming at him with such force that he landed not on his bottom but roughly on his unprotected side. An empty beer can jabbed into his ribcage and his hand landed on something sticky, like tar.

Rightfully disgusted Sena pulled himself up with his stomach muscles wishing that Scary Guy had cut the ropes entwining his arms around his back instead of his legs. Because the mysterious sticky substance was really freaking him out, what if it was gum or something equally icky?

Sena froze struck with the oddity of himself, here he was kidnapped and in the back of a dark van with no clear idea of how long he been there, or why for the matter, and he was fretting over his hygiene. And he hadn't even added Scary Guy to the equation yet.

Speaking of said Scary Guy, he was now entertaining himself with cleaning gunk out from under his nails with the knife unaffected by the hurdling movements of the van. He was still leaning against the window, which had been painted over in black paint, but poorly. While his face was in shadows his long dreadlocks, purple in the lighting, was surrounded in a halo instantly giving him the look of a saint.

One who was friendly with knifes of course and had a habit of kidnapping but all while in a holy way. _I wonder if they drugged me,_ Sena thought off-handily, it would explain why he wasn't freaking out yet and why his brain wasn't sticking onto the fact he had been kidnapped.

Struggling, he swung his memories to earlier that day if only to remind himself of how he got in the situation in the first place.

Four Hours Earlier

"Gah! Sena, Sena, early again! If you keep this up I'm just going to have to start charging you rent." Doburoku teased gruffly unlocking the glass door heading in before Sena. After half a year of working for him Sena knew he wasn't serious and smiled bowing politely.

He followed Doburoku around the store passing jewelry more expensive than the apartment he was living in. And by apartment, he meant the whole complex – including everything inside of it. Diamonds gleamed from under their showcases with an array of other precious gems surrounding them. As the two headed to the back room Doburoku flipped on lights using the Universal Remote he had bought a couple months ago.

The corners of Sena's mouth curled as he stared at the room around him, he had been so lucky to get this job. While other kids his age were either begging money off their parents or working at some dead in job at a fast food joint he was surrounded by chic high class jewelry.

Unlike a greasy fast food place the store was sheek with unstained white carpet floors and five long rectangular showcases made out of dark wood. In the middle of the room was a rounded desk with three ultra fast and slim computers. Against three different walls were flat screen TVs that would play a silent slideshow of the precious rings that the store had to offer.

The walls were a metallic gold color simmering in only the right light, when the sun rose. Black leather chairs awaited tired customers and the lights were aligned to make every jewel glimmer and sparkle.

With school out for summer break – and the library too far to walk - the store had quickly evolved to his haven of safely. It was odd though, helping men twice his age find the ring they would use to propose with. Having them hang on his every word as if by missing one simple fact would end with the lost of their future wife.

But it was just something to get used to.

Sena threw one last glance to the room before following Doburoku into the backroom which, while not as impressive was neat and comfortable. It was then that the feeling hit him like a punch in the gut that also came with a cold shiver down his spine. It attacked like flies on a hot day buzzing through his brain at ultra speed. The moment ended quickly though, just in time for Sena to caught Doburoku say, "Want some coffee?"

He shook his head politely biting his lip as an aftershock ran through his system. It was the same feeling he got when he realized that he burnt dinner or forgot a huge project at home. A nervous bug-like emotion crawling throughout his whole body, setting every fiber on alert.

He hesitated on sharing with Doburoku, going so far as to open his mouth and inhale but stopped at the last moment. "I think I'm going to go start up the music, okay?" Doburoku waved him away already no longer facing Sena. Instead he was muttering to himself randomly jabbing at the expensive coffee machine.

"What a weird feeling, it's sort of like what I'd expect to feel if a bully was near but there are not many bullies that would go out of their way to pick on me here." Sena thought to himself grabbing a bottle of Windex and a cloth.

Heading out into the front he launched himself at his favorite showcase, which was decided just to birthstones. He smiled at the necklace imagining for the umpteenth time the expression on Mamori's face when he gave to her for her 17th birthday that fall.

It wasn't the flashiest of choices, a simple teardrop on a silver chain but Sena knew Mamori – she would rather wear it every day than only on the special occasions. It was the color of light honey and pure citrine, which was a form of quartz.

"Ah, Sena why are you talking to yourself?"

Sena smiled flicking hair out of his eyes and instantly abandoned his cleaning task to take the large box that Chuubou struggled to keep from slamming onto the group. "Gah! What's in here, rocks?!" Sena gasped almost buckling under the weight.

"Worst, Grandpa's fishing supplies," Chuubou explained as they shuffled into the backroom. The box ended up on a table and two boys stood around it to catch their breath. "You shouldn't have tried to carry that all by yourself Chuu," Sena scolded but the younger boy only grinned.

"Ha! Grandpa would disagree with you 'when I was your age I worked every day until my hands bled,'" Chuubou imitated lowering his voice and placing both fist on the side of his waist. Sena simply smiled in response nervous to what he'd do if Doburoku were to hear.

The fact that Chuubou practically adored Sena wasn't going to keep Doburoku from firing him if he felt offended, right? And he needed to get that necklace for Mamori; it was the least she deserved after putting up with him for so long.

"H-hey Sena your spacing out again! You weren't paying attention," Chuubou pouted crossing his arms and Sena blushed instantly apologizing.

"Oh I'm sorry Chuubou, what was that?" He asked scratching the back of his neck and that was all the encouragement Chuubou needed. He instantly jumped into a rushed story of his last baseball game, despite the fact that Sena had been there for it.

In truth Sena could sort of understand to why Chuubou thought so highly of him, his real father was practically nonexistent in his life. He spent most of his time in New York controlling the company while Chuubou stayed in Maine with his grandfather who stubbornly stayed with "his" store.

The first of the world wide Sakaki Diamond Company even though Doburoku would like to pretend otherwise. He didn't keep his aggregation towards his only son much of a secret complaining from the state of the store to every commercial he saw.

And to be honest it was obvious that Chuubou carried more about baseball than he would ever about diamonds or the art of selling them. Even his current apparel reflected this, a baseball t-shirt, blue jeans, and a cap pulled backwards flatting his hair against his neck.

--

"I think I have what you're looking for sir," Sena said softly, leading the elderly man over to the left of the store. The man practically smelled of money and sort of looked like what Sena guessed the guy who owned the Playboy Mansion would appear as (was it a bad thing that the only reason he knew of any of that because Mamori took him to see The House Bunny at the theater?).

Gray hair pushed against his skull the man followed Sena almost stepping on his shoes. "This is a 3.38 ctw, White Gold Engagement Ring. As you can see here it comes with round Princess cut stones with a Princess Cut center stone of 1.0 carat." Sena listed off without even putting any thought into it.

The man's dull gray eyes bore into Sena's own and he realized that despite the man's rich outfit he was needle thin and his skin was lumpy and the whites of his eyes yellow.

"How much for it?" The man wheezed snapping Sena back to his job. It wasn't up to him to stereotype people but he couldn't help but to be mildly curious as his first impression of the man wore away.

"The starting price is $12, 398," Sena said wrestling to keep his smile in place as the man swore. "I'll take it," he said smiling wide enough for Sena to see a line of white teeth. Wait, were those teeth sharp? "Smart choice sir, would you want that wrapped?" Sena said his mind in autopilot.

The feeling was back again, that sense of impending doom.

"I'll actually take it free," the man growled and even before Sena could open his mouth something cold was pressed against his forehead.

The old man grinned again, as if threatening people with a gun was a daily situation. The metal gleamed in the light.

**Because I find this important, I'll say it again. Please respond to my _POLL _- oh and review/alert and stuff. Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as much as the last one. **

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A woman screamed.

A second man, this one taller wearing a black ski mask, burst into the room through the back door. He wasn't just holding a gun like the old man though – no he had two machine styled guns.

"Put your hands up and get on the fucking floor!" He hollered waving each in a different direction. "Get on the goddamn floor!" Someone started to cry but otherwise everyone did as told lowering slowly to the ground arms in the air. "Put your cell phones into the bag if you refuse or claim to not have one that old guy over there will blast out the trash's brains." He hissed holding the black bag out.

With shaking hands everyone did as told and Blackberries, iPhones, Nexus, Touch, and Razors were given up under the hostile eyes of the man. Once the bag was full he simply knotted the drawstring and tightened it before throwing it behind his back. Waving his gun he started to shepherd the people into the circular office.

But Sena didn't notice any of that; screams, cries, and other noises of fear were drowned out. The only sensation he was aware of was the burning touch of the gun against his forehead. The smell of oil and gunpowder tainted his brain and the expression on the old man's face bore into his.

Despite the heavy set of his jaw, the man almost looked bored, his muscles loose and poster slouched. A finger rested over the trigger and his other hand was stuffed in the pocket of his tan Ralph Lauren trousers the thumb attached onto a brown belt loop.

But behind large thin wire glasses, his eyes betrayed him, glinting but remaining sharp while calculating his next move. They held no remorse to what he was doing and simply saw through Sena as if he were nothing more than a billboard on a busy highway.

Sena frowned noticing the reflexive outlining circle around the man's iris.

"Hey get away from him!"

Sena's heart dropped, this was the worst thing that could have happened, he'd rather the old man have shot him on the spot. Chuubou came running up from the backroom and the other – younger – man wearing the ski mask leaped out at him.

Using the skills from constant baseball practice he faked left then bolted right his eyes locked on Sena. "No!" Sena screamed, in a blur Chuubou fell. Dazed Sena realized that the man had turned and thrown him to the ground faster than his eyes could follow.

"Shut up kid," the older man warned blocking Sena from running over to Chuubou by digging the gun harder into his forehead. "Dumbass," he growled to the other guy and grabbed Sena's arm with an iron grip. Sena gasped hunching over from the pain but otherwise kept his eyes glued on Chuubou.

He twitched slightly and Sena could make out the slightest movement. Good he was breathing. Sena turned his attention back up to the old man, wait why wasn't he wearing a mask? So different from the younger man he wore an expensive red knitted vest under an even more expensive looking button up shirt and there was a slight hunch of age to his back. His pants could only be described as 'trousers' and on his wrist looked to be a golden Rolex watch.

Not stereotypic of a jewelry robber.

The younger guy grunted before waving his own gun at Sena. He flinched as the older man had placed his own gun against the side of Sena's stomach. "Now listen 'kay kid? We're going to need you to unlock some of these," the old man hissed into his ear.

Oh god his legs were going to give out any second, he was shivering hard enough that the gun was practically vibrating against him. But he couldn't fall down, would they shoot him if he did? Sena forced his attention back onto the old man. "B-but I can't," he said weakly only to release a pained yelp as the old man twisted the gun hard against his side.

"Unless you want one of these fine people to get shot in the head, find a way." He warned thin lips curling. Sena nodded slowly flinching as the man moved closer. He first patted down the pockets on Sena's black trousers before sticking a hand into the pocket of the lining to his blazer. Sena swallowed dry as he dropped the keys into Sena's hand.

For a moment he wondered why the man didn't just open it himself, but quickly dismissed the thought as he stumbled across the room the keys rattling in his hand. The following minute was the worst of his life thus far. The jewelry store had always felt a little to him like heaven; pristine in a mildly cool way.

Now with the smell of gunpowder, oil, and sweat stinging his nostrils and the whiteness of everything the room felt opposite of heavenly. The teeth of the key snared against the dry skin of his thumb leaving a trail of dark red in its wake.

Sena jerked back his head hitting what he assumed was the gun owned by the old man. "S-sorry," he muttered and was only answered by the empty black sack the man dropped next to him. With only the sound of his heart thumping against his ribcage in exchange for silence Sena silently slipped priceless jewels into the bag.

The room felt too hot and he distractingly wiped away sweat in the space between his eyebrows with the cuff of his sleeve. Sena's eyes darted over to Chuubou, he was still lying motionless on the ground his face turned the opposite direction.

Maybe if he worked fast enough they would leave before Chuubou woke up and Sena could rush to his aid. There wasn't any blood but Sena knew how strong and athletic Chuubou was – he wasn't the type of kid to collapse with a single hit.

But, he thought glancing at the younger of the two robbers; the scary guy did look freakishly strong. And from the way he practically shoved Chuubou into the ground, not afraid to use complete force, he was ruthless.

If Chuubou awoke soon he wouldn't think about any of that, no he would instantly attempt to save Sena again. And if that happened – well Sena couldn't even think about what would happen to the boy. Mamori would have already known what to do, heck the second the robbers brought out their guns she would have made sure the police were already there.

Sena's breath caught in his throat realizing his idiocy – he should have pressed the panic button the second the old man had held him gunpoint. Glancing up he realized that the button was only inches from his head and a buzz spread throughout his body.

Simply by pressing that button the cops would instantly arrive maybe in time to catch and imprison the robbers. Perhaps by doing what he had so far, he already lost his job. Speaking of which, where was Doburoku? The thought was only a passing one along with thousands of others, mentally forcing them away, Sena attempted to concentrate.

He needed to press the panic button unnoticed by the sharp eyes of the old man behind him. Sweat collected in the palms of his hands – surely the man had also noticed the button and was keeping a close eye on it.

Could he tell what Sena was thinking? The gun pressed tighter into his adnominal region Sena choked on spite as a response. "Hurry it up," the old man hissed before releasing some of the pressure. Sena nodded not even registering what he was putting in the bag anymore. His legs throbbed at the lack of blood flow and his breath was coming out in small puffs.

The fluorescent lighting oozed through his skull – had they turned the air conditioner off? Sena's whole face felt flushed and was probably wet from sweat. But none of that mattered; he had to reach that damn button!

Swallowing salty spit Sena shot a look back to it, careful not to tilt his head too much he wasn't sure if the old robber's attention was on him or not.

"That's enough," said the robber's gruff voice. Sena made a split decision and while standing up pretended as if his knees gave out. Reaching out for the counter he stretched far enough to firmly press the red button.

Relief washed through his system – maybe now the nightmare would end.

Present

Sena frowned pressing his brow together, the rest was blurry but due to a throbbing pain on the left part of his brain he could guess what happened next. The old man had hit him with the butt of the gun knocking him out.

But why was he here?

Staring around the depressing state of the van Sena shifted uneasily in his seat. His seat, of course, being the wet and in certain spots eerily sticky floor - which actually didn't even count as a seat. About half an hour ago the van had stopped moving and Scary Guy had jumped out leaving Sena utterly alone.

He had tried opening the door, but with both hands tightened behind his back with a good layer of duck tape and rope, failure had been swift. Pain wasn't though, it seemed as if every part of his body was either in pain, dirty, or both. There was surely large bruises forming on his arms and on the ribcage due to the nauseating smell and tickling sensation running down the side of his face – he was bleeding on his forehead.

And he really, really, really had to pee.

All these factors led up to only one thing.

Thick tears trailed down his face only making matters worse as he couldn't easily wipe at the tears and snot as they crawled down his face. And this only made him cry harder to the point where he was sure that the van was shaking along with his own trembling.

This carried on for a good ten minutes until he was simply too exhausted both physically and mentally. Wiping his face against his knee caps Sena was relieved that they were dark enough to hide any blood stains. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand another round of crying so soon.

If not for the pressing issue of his bladder Sena probably would have fallen asleep on the spot. Instead he attempted to move around as much as possible and a couple times struggled through his bindings to no success.

What felt like eons later the side door to the van slid open attacking him with blinding light. Instantly the image of the old man holding the gun to his head can to mind and a wave of panic hit. Crouching away Sena shut his eyes hunching his shoulders together.

"Get out," a voice ordered different from the other two from before. Sena cautiously opened his eyes taking in the image of the young man standing in front of him. Blond with sharp mint green eyes and a lean frame he stared at Sena expressionless.

When Sena didn't move the youth gave an overdramatic sigh and crawled into the van shoving at the piles of crap in his way. "Come on don't be annoying," he grunted grabbing onto Sena's shoulder and dragging the boy closer. Sena didn't resist still too busy with a high-pitch buzz locked inside his head.

Getting out of the van was difficult – his legs were as steady as cooked pasta and without the aid of arms he couldn't contain any prospect of balance. So instead of even bothering to try and get hurt Sena just sat at the edge of the van staring at the ground.

His legs were getting cramped up again and sweat was making his face itch. "Whoa, kid - don't pass out now," The blonde ordered jumping around him, out of the van, to catch Sena from a face plant into the gray cement.

"What's wrong with it?" Another voice demanded coming from every direction. "Kid's in fucking shock – shit!" He snapped but Sena couldn't reply. He was too busy as seconds later another with dry heave of stomach acid forced itself up his throat. The blonde had nimbly moved out of the way while still keeping a hand on Sena, keeping the boy from landing in a pile of his own puke.

Sena whimpered still needing to pee – badly. He opened his mouth attempting to force the words out, empty air came instead. The blonde somehow managed to pull him away from the puke and out of the van, but Sena couldn't remember even the slightest effort on his part.

His brain twisted again fading everything to black and Sena slouched even more against the blonde. The pain in his stomach would have caused him to heave again otherwise. Cold sweat itched across his skin and Sena looked into the cool green eyes of the blonde.

"Well fuck this-"

--

Sena woke up slowly, first he became aware that he was still tired and attempted to return to sleep. A throbbing headache soon followed and Sena breathed deeply trying to find a rhythm that would wash it away.

Then he realized that he didn't have to pee anymore and his brain twitched locking on something. Why had he needed to pee? Swallowing Sena ran a dry tongue over the layer of uckness on his teeth. He was really thirsty. But that could wait for later, sleep now, water later.

As soon as that thought passed a warm greasy scent invaded his nostrils. Instantly Sena's eyes flickered open and he rubbed at the pound of eye glunk that had formed on the inner corners. Sitting up his stomach grumbled again and Sena stared at his surroundings passively.

He had been placed on top of a pile of clothing – mostly old large orange t-shirts and was wearing one of said orange t-shirts. Curiously he checked underneath and colored lightly – nothing else. Standing on wobbly legs Sena instantly slipped falling halfway on the t-shirts and on the cold floor.

Trying again – this time much more cautiously – Sena stood and sniffed with all intentions of finding the greasy food. His stomach felt clenched and the headache wouldn't go away. Raising a hand to his head he frowned touching cloth. He pressed darker and hissed at the pain. Better not do that again.

Glancing around Sena realized for the first time that he didn't have the slightly idea where he was. Scratching at a bleak memory he came up mostly empty, expect for getting third place in the school spelling bee.

But no memories of the spelling bee could explain what he was doing in a rather deserted warehouse. Well not completely deserted he realized chewing on a bottom lip, there was still the greasy food to be had. And – after paying closer attention – he realized it smelled more and more like fried chicken.

How would Sena realize that though? Frowning he tried to remember ever eating fried chicken, strange – he knew how it would taste and could even picture a piece of chicken breast wrapped around in golden breading. But he couldn't think of any single time he had eaten fried chicken personally.

Brushing off the weirdness before it could seriously get to him Sena started heading in the general direction the smell was coming from. Careful of where he stepped, not wanting glass piercing his bare feet.

Sena's head snapped up the second he heard voices – two males muttering too low for him to properly understand. He didn't want to eavesdrop anyway, just get some food. "Excuse me?" He asked surprised how hoarse and deep his voice was.

Rounding around some complex apparatus he came face to face with the two men. They both had stopped talking the second he had started and stared at him in exchange of an answer. Glancing over them Sena realized that sure enough contained in a paper bucket was fried chicken.

It was placed on top of an empty milk carton along with a bag of what appeared to be forks, napkins, and things of the such.

"You're awake," the blonde one stated snapping Sena's attention away from the chicken. "Oh yes but I'm still tired though. I'm more hungry than more tired though, would you mind?" Sena nearly begged and the blonde waved a hand to the food.

Sena thanked him before crouching down at the milk carton and gently took a piece of meat out of the red and white bucket. Even though he didn't have any memories to back up his reasoning Sena figured that simply holding the chicken in his bare hand would be too hot.

So instead he peeled off one paper plates and put it there scurrying the room for a free chair. Finding none he instead stayed crouched on his knees. The shirt was long enough that even by doing this it draped almost to his feet.

Sena took as large as a bite as possible and relished on the juicy, crunchy, and salty taste. He practically didn't breathe until he was left with a couple of bones. He debated on taking another piece but already his stomach was beginning to feel better if not a little blotted.

Picking up a napkin while standing at the same time Sena scrubbed at his hands and face before fully taking on his current company. They were younger than he had thought at first – older than him by far but under 21. The blonde one had several piercings in his ears and two silver piercings under his bottom lip. He was wearing a black collared button up shirt with no sleeves, dark jeans, a series of tattoos down his arms, a studded belt, and Converse.

The other boy was glaring at Sena and wearing a white tank top, baggy jeans, and had zero body fat whatsoever. Instead he seemed to be packed with pure muscle, a mess of heavy dreadlocks ran down his back and Sena could make out a tattoo on his back.

The chicken sat uneasy in his stomach and he could feel his face redden. Standing up he stammered, "Sorry that was rude of me wasn't it?" Their expressions gave nothing away but Sena could feel the awkwardness sitting in the room.

"Well, um, I'm Sena – you wouldn't happen to know why I'm here would you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter! That's right, the long awaited (well, sorta) next chapter! Please R&R! **

"Well we can't keep it that's for damn sure," Agon hissed glancing back to Sena who was chewing thoughtfully on a piece of cold pizza across the room, outside of hearing distance. And by "it" he wasn't referring to the pizza.

Hiruma grunted for a reply – but not in agreement, just acknowledging Agon's comment. Sensing he was being inspected, Sena shivered before whipping his head around, seeing them, and waved cheerfully. "We can't leave him here, it's too much of a hazard, we'll be charged with second – maybe even first degree murder when he starves and dies." Hiruma pointed out and as if to prove how pitiful he was, Sena wacked himself in the face, with his own waving hand.

He seemed more surprised than hurt and quickly lowered his hand, eyes wide.

"If we get caught," Agon pointed out and Hiruma shook his head without hesitation. "We would if there was a body," he said leaving no room for doubt. Agon crackled his knuckles and gave Sena a death glare; the boy luckily missed it though because at the same moment he bent down to pick up his napkin.

"So what – you seriously think you're gonna keep him?" Agon sneered getting no reaction out of Hiruma other than a quick twitch in the forehead. "Well, he wouldn't be _here_ if you had done your job properly, now would he?" He hissed before redeeming his earlier calm, "we just need to drop the kid off at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, until then we have to tell the kid something that will keep him from asking questions." Hiruma mused, but while talking his mind sparked and he grinned to himself.

"Do you think he's faking it?" Agon asked. Sena, no longer hungry, was ripping up his napkin and sprinkling the shreds over his remaining pizza while wearing a blank expression.

"Could be, if so he'd doing a pretty fair job, kid was flipping shit earlier. Could be the shock," he said but while pointy looking at Sena's bandaged head. Every once and awhile the kid would reach up as if to brush hair out of his eyes, touch the cut, then wince.

"I don't trust him," Agon growled narrowing his eyes. Sena winced, quickly pulled his hand away from his forehead, and his elbow wacked against the plate and the pizza and paper strips fell to the ground. He bent down to pick it up but somehow managed to slip and landed face down on the ground.

He sat up glancing around to make sure that no one saw his failure. "Yep, just another cold criminal bent on controlling the world," Hiruma said dryly with a snort and Agon glared at him. "Shut up, I still don't like the kid," he muttered and Hiruma shrugged.

"Well that doesn't matter – look we don't want the kid to run off on us and alert the police, right? So we better keep him from realizing anything, along with not asking too many questions." Hiruma grunted and Agon sneered, "Fine, what's your plan?"

Sena sat in the back of the van, every once and awhile thumping his head against something when Hiruma hit a pothole. "Where are we going?" He asked casually. Hiruma was the leader of their strange little trio and looked over his shoulder at Sena who had been bussing himself with cleaning the back of the van, stuffing all the trash into garbage bags.

The ground of the van had been completely disgusting and without proper cleaning supplies all Sena could do was pick up the trash. But even by doing so he had removed a lot of major safety hazards.

"California," he answered and Sena bent over the seat, careful not to touch the relaxing Agon who was causally flipping through a _Playboy _magazine. "Where's California?" Sena asked looking at the atlas Hiruma had positioned next to him.

"You don't even know-" Agon snorted but Hiruma cut him off, "Hey just because Sena lost his memory doesn't mean he's completely useless." Hiruma said and Sena smiled, it wasn't that he was choosing favorites or anything but Hiruma was nicer than Agon. Maybe right before he lost his memory he said something that offended Agon.

The thought made his stomach sick, Agon wasn't someone he'd want to ever offend he was so scary.

Steering the wheel with his legs Hiruma flipped to the front of the atlas, "this is America," he stated and Sena nodded, even though he already knew that much. "This is where we are," Hiruma said, tapping a funny looking state called Maine then ran his finger to the totally opposite side of the map. "That's California, now stop wasting your time back there and learn all the states and capitals. We'll have a pop quiz later," Hiruma ordered pushing him back over the seat.

Sena sat down on the ground using Hiruma and Agon's dirty clothes as a cushion. He was still wearing the same orange shirt he was woken up in, along with a pair of Hiruma's black boxers, which were fairly long on him.

It had been two days since he had first 'woken up' as he put it and other than feeling like he was covered in a layer of grim and dirt, he was still a little dizzy about everything. Hiruma had explained everything so fast, and then they were in the van headed to California (capital Sacramento). Agon treated him like a footstool and wouldn't explain anything as they loaded the van with a couple of really heavy duffle bags.

Sena didn't actually help load the vans, but later one of the duffle bags had slammed into him so he was able to comprehend how heavy they were.

It was strange, even though Agon and Hiruma seemed completely at ease Sena couldn't help but to feel a level of shyness. He didn't have any memories of the two so it was almost like they were complete strangers. But he'd try to remember, and then maybe the uneasy feeling in his stomach would go away. However that could just have been caused by all the fast food they were eating, surely so much fried chicken was going to be their downfall.

Sena looked up and squinted, surely there was something, there had to be something he remembered about them…they hit a particularly deep pothole and Sena was thrown up in the air. He hit the ground with an "oof" noise and for a moment his arms hurt a lot. Curious, he sat up and rubbed at his wrist. Irritated red marks coved both of them; he had noticed it earlier but hadn't really given it that much thought.

What had he done to do that?

And, more importantly, why didn't he have any clothes? If what Hiruma said was true – that he fell out of the van and hit his head, that didn't explain why he didn't have any clothes. They both had clothes, why didn't he?

"Hiruma?" Sena asked pressing against the seat again. Hiruma looked up at him mildly surprised, "What you're already done?" He asked disbelieving and Sena shook his head blushing. "Um, no, I was wondering though, why aren't I wearing any clothes?" Was it just him or did Hiruma stiffen slightly? He placed his head in his hands staring intently on Hiruma.

The blonde gave him a judgmental glance before grinning widely closing in the space between the two. "Let's just say that we had a wild night," he said and next to him Agon snorted, studying the centerfold carefully. Sena frowned tipping his head, he had the distinct feeling that he was being made fun of but wasn't sure how.

"Um, okay, so why don't I have any clothes again?" Sena asked clearing his throat, trying to keep them on the current topic. "Because we weren't able to gather them after you threw them off during our wild sex." Hiruma said his tone bored. Sena flushed a dark red and make a couple hoarse croaks before his voice finally returned.

"But I'm a virgin!" He cried the words sounding weird in his ears, how could he even be sure that was true? His stomach felt sick; could he seriously have forgotten such an important aspect to life? "Not since you were 15," Hiruma said causally and Sena blinked.

Suddenly he looked down at his wrist and could feel the color rise to his cheeks. "Then these," he showed Hiruma his wrist, "are caused from some weird…bondage thing?" He asked his voice higher than it ever been since he woke up.

"Hey, it was your idea," Hiruma said causally and Sena blushed. His image of Hiruma had just taken a 180, he had been thinking of Hiruma in almost an elder brother type of way. The type of older brother that would randomly make him learn the 50 states and capitals on a whim. But if they were actually _partners _who've done 'that' then well…that kinda changed everything. And not only 'that' but apparently often for weird stuff like…bondage.

"Bu-but doesn't that ma-make us, um, you know…_gay_?" Sena asked and ended up whispering the 'g' word. "That's your heritage talking," Hiruma said causally glancing at the road. "My heritage?" Sena pressed and had to wait for a couple agonizing seconds as they hit another pothole – why were they taking all these back roads anyway?

"You were raised Catholic, your father wasn't just a priest but an extremist. He made you chose to either give up your right as his son and to never return home or live like he told and to never speak to me ever again. So we ran away, in this piece of shit van." Hiruma explained staring ahead as he told the whole story. Sena blinked – he really chose his freedom instead of following his father's wishes? It was strange, he hadn't really thought of himself that brave.

"So do we love each other?" He asked and Hiruma looked up at him, his expression unreadable. Sena bit down on his lip sensing that he had said something wrong, but what? If they were already doing it, and he had left his home to be with Hiruma, then shouldn't it be obvious that they love each other?

And then Sena could feel his thinking shift, what if he had been different – before losing his memories? What if back then he hadn't cared too much for love or any values and instead joined Hiruma just as an escape from his father? It wasn't a pleasant thought, and it made Sena's stomach hurt even more, but there wasn't anything he could say now to bring it back.

Instead he stared with wide eyes at Hiruma, nervously awaiting the other's answer. Finally Hiruma snorted and shook his head. "Yeah Sena, we fucking love each other." Hiruma finally said and ruffled his hair. It wasn't the best of answers and wasn't really that convincing but Sena let himself get pushed away. At the last moment though, he took a sharp glance at Agon.

"Then why is Agon here?" He asked blushing when he thought about how rude that sounded, he was about to apologize when Hiruma crackled in laughter. "Just some homeless fucker we found hitchhiking, he's heading to California too." He explained and Sena glanced nervously at the hitchhiker. He was so scary-looking, Sena couldn't even been to comprehend why Hiruma would stop and pick him up.

But, he realized, swallowing and gathering the atlas, he was going to have to spend the next couple weeks with him so Sena was going to have to try to be nicer to Agon, if only so he could sleep better. At the thought of sleeping, Sena looked up at Hiruma, searching for what he found so appealing about the other.

Wiry with tough muscles, he did have a nice facial structure, and really, really bright green eyes. He squinted shutting his eyes against any more weird thoughts.

0000

Mamori Anezaki's morning was hell.

For the last two days she hadn't slept at all instead stuck up in the police station which was near suffocating because the heater was going crazy and everything was practically scolding hot. Her nerves were running thin and they had no evidence at. None. Not even a morsel of hair or a half smudged fingerprint. Irritated she marched over to the coffee machine and pulled the coffee pot out too fast and losing her grip. It crashed onto the floor, not breaking but slipping boiling hot coffee down her shirt and pant legs.

She swore – something she rarely allowed herself to do and picked up a pile of napkins dropping them onto the floor and let them soak up the still burning coffee. "Alright there Anezaki?" Someone asked their voice oozing with a contempt smirk. It didn't take her long to figure out why, she was the only woman on their small police force and a couple of the guys didn't like the idea of a woman on the force.

Her bent down cleaning the floor would only empower them more. She clenched her teeth holding back a retort of 'stupid sexist pig' and looked up to connect the voice with a face. Her anger dissolved and she jumped up giving him a curt nod. "Hello Lieutenant, sir, everything is fine – I just split the coffee, sir." She said throwing away the wet napkins in her hands.

Marco nodded in understanding sipping on his soda. "I wouldn't yet some of these guys see you on the ground cleaning Annie, you're pretty much setting yourself up there," he said causally and she nodded again, placing the coffee pot back, and started to brew a new pot.

"Yes sir," she said swallowing her anger and outrage.

"Anyway, it's far too hot for coffee, here," he tossed her a Pepsi, still cool. She managed to not fumble with it and instead wondered about the new strange nickname he had just bestowed upon her. Annie? Was that supposed to be an insult or just the American way to pronounce the beginning of her last name Ah-ne? She wasn't sure, just knew that being half-Japanese didn't help her case with the other cops at all.

But why should it? She was born in America and she hadn't even met her mysterious Japanese father, the last she heard he was giving away laptop to poor African kids. "So, get any hits on the ghost?" Marco asked, talking about the case involving Sena. She practically had to chew off her arm to get on the case, which was why she was working at 2 a.m. while everyone else was probably sleeping.

She needed to make up for being a woman.

The thought angered her and she breathed deeply trying to push it away. "Nothing new," she said leaving the small café and back to her desk. Marco followed which set off a couple of warnings in her mind, not that any of the guys had actually done anything really bad yet. But she was already jumpy from the caffeine and the anger of not having found anything yet.

Sena was out there somewhere, she could tell, probably hurt and afraid and it was up to her to find and protect him. It always been that way, Sena would get bullied at school and she'd be the one to protect him, it was one of the main reasons she decided to join the force; to serve and protect.

And now Sena needed to be protected more than ever.

He worked at the jewelry store, which had been robbed and him held as a kidnap. The robbers must have been planning to rob the place for months; they managed to turn the burger alarm off completely without alerting anyone. And at the high school – completely across town five kids had been caught with cocaine on campus so nearly every cop car was there going through lockers and backpacks.

That had been too thought out, too easy for them. She had concluded that they planted the cocaine and to her surprise found herself telling Marco so. Maybe it was just that she was wired on the Pepsis he was handing out like he had a fountain of soft drinks hidden somewhere or maybe because it was good to be heard out for once.

"But I think that those kids – that got the cocaine, if I could find who gave it to them, then maybe we'd have our guys." Mamori said organizing a stack of paper on her desk. She looked up and had to resist the urge to flinch. Marco was staring at her intently as if studying a particularly hard puzzle. She stood straight and met his eyes; let him decide what to say himself.

"And why do you think that they didn't give the cocaine to the kids' themselves?" He asked and she nodded, reminding herself to continue. "Because how careful they been so far, if one of the dealers squeal," she said and he sat on her desk carefully.

"Annie, those boys are in holding – we had several officers try to rag them out, they're not talking." He said looking almost disappointed. "That's not who I'm talking about, this is Sena's high school, I didn't graduate that long ago myself. I know how the cliques work, all I need is one kid with a guilty conscious, and then we'll have our guy."

Marco nodded slowly, "Well, that's a hell lot better than anything else I've heard today. Annie, I'm going to talk to the chief, next time I get, and I promise you that he'll give you the go-way for this little plan of yours," he said and Mamori smiled ready to thank him when she caught the slight twitch of a half-smile.

"What's the catch?" She snapped narrowing her eyes and he shrugged stretching his arms, cracking his neck. "I need you to check up on Shin, and partner up with him." He explained and she relaxed, Shin was one of the best cops in the whole station.

And she had personally been planning to look him up once she got a break in the case. This wasn't as big as a break as she'd hope but it was good enough, and she knew that Shin probably was taking this even more personally than she was. Sena had adored Shin, very time he came to the station after school he would practically shadow Shin with the same awed expression as a tourist in the city.

Shin was mostly a quiet guy, he kept to himself, but Sena – in his own awkward way – brought the best out of Shin, who never had a partner stick. Pretty much a solo guy, it was good to see him give Sena the older brother role Mamori secretly knew he craved.

They personally had never talked though and one-on-one Shin was pretty imitating, not the average small town cop at all. Shaking her head of such thoughts, Mamori nodded to Marco. "Yeah, um, could you look up his address for me?" Mamori asked and he handed over a slip of paper. She realized with a slight shock that he must have already been planning to give her this all along.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dude, guess who's awesome?**

**(Hint: me) **

Sena was asleep when they got the call.

Several of Hiruma's phones went off simultaneously spitting out mashed up choruses of odd songs and chimes, so intertwined chaotically, it was sinister. Hiruma didn't bother taking his eyes off the road, swiping the first cell phone in reach. He flipped it open and all the other phones died instantly. In the back of the van Sena only made the slightest murmur.

"'Bout time you contacted us, Boss," Hiruma said, not bothering to lower his voice. If he did, the Boss on the other side of the line would instantly realize something was fucked. Next to him, Agon Kongo's jaw twitched as he listened in the conversation. "We got the crap," Hiruma added, otherwise the Boss would've hung up.

"Good, it's so hard to find such reliable children these days. Leave it in P.O box 333 in Grand street Lima, Ohio by Thursday."

The line went dead. Hiruma threw the phone into the back, grunting with distaste. _Children. _He only let the pointed jeer affect him for a moment – they had bigger shit at the moment. They were still 13 hours from Ohio; they would have to get rid of the boy as soon as possible. He should have foreseen it; Agon's rash stupidity wasn't to be left to chance.

"We could drop him off right here," Agon pointed out, directing to the lush forest all around them. Hiruma couldn't lie to himself, the idea was tempting. To just correct the problem now, without the Boss ever knowing - however it would only take a matter of minutes for the imbecile to slip somewhere and break his neck. Anyway, it was an inevitable truth that the Boss would learn of Hiruma and Agon's slip up, if he didn't already.

Surely, the knowledge of a boy being kidnapped by jewelry burglars had worked its way into the majority of Maine's papers – if not national news. The Boss would already have been watching to see if the two made even the slightest mistake. Kidnapping a minor probably put Hiruma on the top of his shit list. Again, he should have seen this happen, should have known Agon would manage to screw up his perfect plan. First, refusing disguise, then fucking kidnap –

"Fucking trash, I said -"

"I heard you. Bad idea," Hiruma cut him off and could sense Agon's temper rising. "Well I don't fucking hear any pearls of wisdom from you're end, trash." Hiruma glanced down at the gas meter, 1/4th of a tank left. The next station was coming up in a few minutes, maybe it was time. Time to get rid of the kid – otherwise he might pick up that they were on their way to Ohio.

"Go back there and wake the brat up. There's a gas station ten minutes up the road," Hiruma said. Agon raised an eyebrow, but surprisingly listened without complaint, stepping over the seat into the back of the bus.

The boy was wedged between their seat and one of the hubs, his arms under his head, the long ratty worker shirt pulled over his bent knees. There was a smudge of dried blood on the side of his face and his hands were black from filth, his arms and legs were covered in odd bruises, his hair a shocked and greasy mess.

Agon nudged him with his boot and startled awake, Sena started at him with foggy blankness for a moment before connecting the dots. Agon didn't like it, the way the brat stared at him with void eyes, empty of the expected emotions. Sure, there was fear in there, but not the right brand. He didn't know what Agon was capable of, didn't know that he should be blessing every second he's still breathing.

Sena yawned and tried to wiggle out of his makeshift bed. "How long have I been asleep?" He asked as Agon returned to the front. When Agon decided to ignore him, Sena scooted over and sat on up his knees to see the clock - 7:43, about five hours. Sena surely felt the effects of five hours cramped on the ground.

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to force the knots out of his body. How much longer were they going to drive? Surely they had to get out at some point. For a moment Sena felt a flicker of a memory, of unbelievably soft comforters that smelled like pine. But it left, and Sena deemed the memory not important enough to share. Anyway, Hiruma looked slight stressed already.

Sena rested his head on the seat and stared blankly at the ground between Hiruma and Agon. The grayish green seats were littered with junk – wrappers, magazines, a tool box, several cell phones, and a duffel bag was stuffed under Agon's seat. Sena resisted the urge to sigh, he was sick of reading the map – sick of sitting around doing nothing.

Sena's self-pity was interrupted as Hiruma swerved, flying into a gas station. Sena perked up, itching to get out of the van. "If you want, I'll go pay for the gas," he said, the words flying out of his mouth. Hiruma cranked his head to give Sena a somewhat suspicious glance and Sena smiled sheepishly. "I just wanna walk around a little bit," he explained and for a moment he thought he saw the shadow of a smile on Agon's face.

From some mysterious location, Hiruma drew out four twenty dollar bills and Sena couldn't help but to be instantly nervous, it was a lot of money after all. "Get me a Pepsi while you're in there – and gum, not any of that sugary shit." Hiruma said causally and Sena nodded.

He sat awkwardly for a moment, not sure how he was supposed to get out. Hiruma opened his door and stepped out – probably to get the pump. Sena slipped after him and his borrowed shirt got caught on the seat.

"Are you sure they're going to let me in?" Sena asked tugging down his shirt, realizing his lack of shoes could also be a problem. Behind him Agon snorted, and Sena gave him a curious look. "You'll be fine," Hiruma said, ushering Sena away.

Sena stumbled across the parking lot, somewhat uneasily. His legs felt weak, from being in the van for so long. However, it still felt good to be up and about, with fresh air in his lungs. Inside the store, Sena winced at how unsanitary the ground felt. Crossing over to the sodas, Sena wondered if he should get Agon something too. He grabbed another Pepsi, figuring it couldn't hurt. At the register, Sena chose the least sugary looking gum he could find, before paying the lady – an elderly woman who was too busy applying makeup to even notice Sena's odd appearance.

After putting the rest of the money towards gas, Sena stepped back outside. His stomach growled and he felt slightly foolish for not getting anything for himself.

"Are you okay Hiruma-san?" Sena asked, surprised at the sour look on the blonde's face. Hiruma blinked, glancing away from the pump he had been giving a death stare to. "Sure, fucking fantastic. Did you get me any cigarettes?" He asked and Sena shook his head.

"I – I don't think that's legal and you didn't ask for any," he explained before holding up the Pepsi and gum. "But, um, I did get what you wanted," he said before glancing into the van. Agon shot him a nasty look and Sena pretended that it didn't make his stomach flip. "I-I got one for you too Agon-san," Sena said. He sneered over a dirty magazine, "I don't drink that shit," he said.

Sena resisted the urge to sigh and started to climb back into the van. He stopped surprised when Hiruma pulled him back by his arm. Sena tilted his head back to get a clear look Hiruma's expression. "You stink," Hiruma announced and Sena hung his head. "We're going to a hotel on the next exit, I wanna breathe something that's not shit," Hiruma said and let Sena go.

He blinked and once in the back, Sena shook his head.

He really didn't understand what was going on half the time.

0000

"Mamori!" Mihae gasped wrapping the young officer as soon as the door opened. "Ms. Kobayakawa," she responded and the woman released her, using a crumpled tissue to dry her eyes. "Oh forgive me Mamori dear, I'm not myself," she said forcing on her brave face. Mamori's heart nearly broke and she couldn't help but to give Mamori's hand a squeeze

Mihae stepped out of the way, ushering Mamori into the apartment. From the hallway, she could see Shuma hunched over the kitchen table. "Oh, hello," Mihae said as Shin followed Mamori into the apartment. "Ms. Kobayakawa, this is my partner, Seijuro Shin," Mamori explained and Mihae offered him a thin smile and a soft handshake.

"I believe Sena spoke of you," she muttered before leading them into the kitchen. Shuma jumped up, his chair crashing to the ground. When he locked eyes with Mamori he relaxed – but only slightly. "Mamori-san it's so nice…of you to stop by," he said his voice heavy with exhaustion. Mihae and Shuma were both from Japan and had moved to Maine when Sena was about five.

She had taken Sena under her wing because he was so shy around the other kids, and seemed to sense that she and Sena were the same. Both a little different.

Shuma slowly picked up his chair and motioned to the two open chairs next to him. "Please, sit down," he said dryly before asking, "do you have any idea where Sena is?" There was so much desperation in his voice that Mamori's heart nearly burst. "I think we have a couple leads, but nothing concrete yet. I'm so terribly sorry, I was wondering though; could we borrow a picture of Sena? A current one would be best," Mamori said.

Mihae dropped a teapot onto the stove and turned to Mamori, "of course, would you like a couple of tea?" Mamori was about to turn down the offer but Mihae had already produced two cups in front of them.

"You can go get anything you need out of Sena's room Mamori, I'm sure he'd understand," Mihae said with a sigh as she poured the tea into their cups. With one whiff Mamori recognized their favorite tea, oolong.

Mamori turned to Shin and followed his gaze to Mihae's wrist – he was staring quite blankly at her _Family _tattoo. It was in Japanese, and Mamori had always admired it. "Um," she said sipping her tea, and forcing her brain back on track. "Oh – yes, I'll do that. Shin do you want to stay in –" he had already stood up and was headed down the hall.

Capturing a sigh, Mamori nodded to Mihae and Shuma before following Shin down the hall. "Sena's room is all the way down, to the right," she said. For some reason, her heart was starting to ache. After a moment Mamori decided to stop fooling herself. A small, foolish part of her wanted to walk into Sena's room and find him with a book in his lap, or playing some nonviolent video game.

Instead, the room was empty, a hallow shell without Sena. Mamori forced a warm emotion down her throat as she slipped into the room. Pinned onto the wall next to Sena's bed was the large piece of poster board she had given to him – on it in her handwriting was; GO MAMORI'S LITTLE BROTHER!

That had been the school gag, that the two Asian kids were siblings. In high school Mamori had been moderately popular, and despite the slight bullying Sena refused to talk to her about, Sena wasn't a complete outcast. He had actually won #1 in the state companion for his track team.

He was just a little shy that was all.

Mamori sat down on the bed, and glanced around the room while her heart throbbed. Sena's pajamas were a crumpled mess at her feet. The 4th Harry Potter book laid on its spine at his bedside table, along with half a glass of water and his alarm clock.

Not the digital kind, a real old fashioned alarm clock. His bed sheets had baseballs on them and sitting next to his desk was a large stuffed bear that Mamori had got for him at a carnival. The only reason Mamori didn't lose it right then and there was Shin who was eagle eyeing the room.

She stood up; smiling when Shin's eye caught the article Sena had cut out from the newspaper. In grainy black and white print, Shin stared back at them, his expression a frozen one common on police officers.

"Sena would freak if he knew that you saw that," Mamori said softly, and waved away Shin's curious expression. "Never mind, let's just get a picture and get out of here," she said picking up the first one she found off Sena's desk.

Back in the kitchen, Mihae offered them a weak smile before reaching out for Mamori again. "Please, in you get any information on Sena, call us right away. And thank you so much for stopping in. Oh, you too Mr. Shin," Mihae said and he gave her a curt nod before heading out of the door.

Mamori shared a few warm words before heading back out with Shin. She whipped open the door and slipped behind the wheel. Before putting the key in the ignition she shot Shin a snake eyed look. "That was rude, the least you could've done was say hello, or thank them for the tea," she snapped and Shin simply adjusted his glasses, and his eyes narrowed.

Mamori closed her mouth, despite the several other nasty comments she had been dying to make. "Was Sena adopted?" Shin asked and she gave him a bewildered look.

"What?" She asked completely dumbfounded and Shin crossed his arms, glancing back up at the apartment.

"Shuma and Mihae Kobayakawa are not Japanese – and they are not Sena Kobayakawa's biological parents." Shin explained, and Mamori could only manage the slightest disbelieving gasp.

0000

Agon had to read the message again.

_That fucking trash, _he thought, flipping open the cell phone.

The text read: "And boys, don't forget to be good host to Sena Kobayakawa."

It wasn't signed, but then again it didn't have to be. Only the boss would have the brass balls to call Agon a fucking _boy. _Not that it pissed him off any less, Agon grinded his teeth and decided to break the phone.

He whipped it across the room, only the slightly bit less pissed off.

At the same moment, the little trash himself stepped out of the bathroom. His eyes were wide as he stared at the shattered phone a few feet away from him. Agon couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow, somewhat impressed that the trash had managed not to get creamed.

"What was that for?" The trash asked in disbelief, but there was no need to answer, as the idiotic trash was just making noise.

Sena was less effected by almost facing death-by-flying-phone than he would've normally. For what felt like the first time in eons he had been able to take a shower. With shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap he felt like he had vacationed in heaven.

The warm water had washed away the worse of his aches, along with a nasty stench, dirt, and dried blood. _In no situation did Sena want to know what the dried blood was from. _He actually shuttered when Hiruma's face flooded into his mind.

And the nice fluffy hotel towels had been a pleasant plus; almost enough to take his mind off the fact that Agon and Hiruma both seemed to be in foul moods.

Stepping out of the bathroom didn't seem to have been a good idea, Hiruma wasn't back from the store yet – Agon was in a bad mood, and Sena was completely stark naked.

Well, other than the towel tied at his waist of course. Sena couldn't help but to wonder – was he always this, um, _exposed_? He seriously couldn't remember putting on clothes.

The room they were sharing only had two beds, one for Agon – closest to the front and bathroom doors and what Sena assumed was a bed for him and Hiruma. Sena put aside _those _thoughts, too excited at the prospect of having a real bed to sleep in for the night.

Between the two beds was a small bedside table, with a lamp on it. On the opposite wall a few feet away from the beds was a small TV on top of a small coffee table, with a mirror behind it. In the corner of that wall and the one to the window sat a chair.

Farther down was a radiator which occasionally grumbled every once and awhile. The remote to the TV was on Agon's side of the table, so instead of risking his life, Sena busied himself with taking inventory of his current physical state.

The bruise on his head was a small lump now, and still throbbed a little bit, but didn't hurt nearly as bad. The cuts on his wrist were now just soft scars, the same for his ankles. There was a large bruise on his ribcage which was a nasty purple shade, but it was the worse he had.

Sena glanced over to Agon, and resisted the urge to scream when he realized that Agon was already staring at him from the corner of his glasses. Sena sighed, it was time, he realized, time he settled whatever bad blood was between him and the hitchhiker.

After all, it was a long way to California.

"Um, Agon," Sena said softly, his voice coming out more high pitch than he would've liked. The man grunted and Sena suddenly wanted to scream at his past self for being so stupid. Agon could probably crush him like a mosquito.

"I was wondering, um, well, yu, er, see, um, wha-what's up?"

Dread washed over Sena when Agon swung his feet off the bed, and he scrambled farther across his own bed when Agon approached him. A hand wrapped his shoulder in an iron tight grip, if Sena hadn't been scared out of his mind, he would've whimpered.

"Listen trash, I think it's time I set down some basic rules," Agon growled and Sena nodded practically eagerly. "Oh-okay," Sena said slithering further back on his bed. "Rule 1: Don't fucking talk to me, no more fucking candy ass shit conversations, I don't want to hear your shitty voice more than I have to," he said and Sena nodded.

"Sorry, I, oh!" Sena cupped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. He mouthed, 'sorry' but that only seemed to irritate Agon further.

He snorted and ambled his way back to his own bed. As soon as he sat down, the front door opened and Sena jumped off the bed, landing on the ground with a groan. "What the fuck's wrong with you?" Hiruma asked and Sena only managed a nervous laugh.

He glanced surprised at the several bags that Hiruma had brought in. "Here – put on some fucking clothes," Hiruma said motioning to one of the bags. Momentarily wondering how Hiruma had managed to carry all the bags, Sena opened the bag in question.

Inside was a basic pair of jeans and a non descriptive white shirt, deodorant, along with a hair brush, and underwear; a pack of briefs and boxers. Sena took the boxers and after a moment of consideration, decided to change in the room. He crossed back to the bed and took off his towel, surprised about the lack of embarrassment he expected to feel.

Sena opened the pack of boxers and pulled out a simple pair, surprised how much better he felt, with just the correct size boxers on. He put the shirt on; it fit him nicely, but would surely get dirty soon. The pants were a little snug, but fit well enough that Sena didn't complain.

Sena brushed his crazed hair, which was only halfway dried, making it slightly easier to brush. He used the towel to dry it again when he finished brushing the horrific mess and turned around. "I feel better," he said with a grin before remembering the deodorant.

He tugged his shirt up and applied it, more thankful for the deodorant than he could possibly explain.

"Come over here," Hiruma said, slightly gruffly. He was still going through the bags. Sena raised an eyebrow at the backpack Hiruma was holding. "You lost your old one," Hiruma explained quickly before tugging Sena back across the room, back to their bed. He sat down in the chair before directing that Sena sit at the edge of the bed in front of him.

He dropped another bag in between them, and took a bottle of peroxide and a box of Band-Aids out of it, before motioning that Sena move closer. With a cotton pad, he pressed the peroxide against Sena's forehead.

Sena winced and hissed at the stinging sensation. "Oh grow up, it's a fucking scratch," Hiruma snapped and Sena nodded, however his expression stayed the same as Hiruma applied the peroxide to the cuts on his wrist.

"Okay that's all of it," Sena said and Hiruma gave him a dark look. "Let me look at your stomach," he ordered and Sena lifted his shirt with a sigh. With the sting of peroxide still strong, the bruise looked a lot worse than earlier. Hiruma gently touched the worse of the purple and Sena flinched.

"Does that hurt?" Hiruma demanded and Sena shook his head. "Your hands are just really cold," he explained. While the bruise did hurt when Hiruma applied a little more pressure, none of his ribs were broken. Hiruma dropped a few painkillers in Sena's hand, which he swallowed obediently.

"I got you three pairs of pants and five shirts, you should be fine for now," Hiruma said and Sena nodded. "Thank you Hiruma," he said before standing up. A surge of awkwardness hit him, when Sena realized that he was standing in between Hiruma's legs.

He moved quickly, back to the bags, to organize his new things together.

Hiruma seemed to be just as much as an enigma as Agon. At times, he seemed to more like an older brother, telling Sena what to do, buying Sena's clothes – but then he went and said that they did _that _together.

It was still far too much for Sena to handle.

Agon growled when Sena passed him, to pick up the pack of underwear and deodorant and Sena attempted to smile politely, despite his fear. He made sure not to say anything though. Crouching down with his new stuff, Sena tugged the tags off his new backpack.

Hiruma seemed to have bought everything that Sena could ever possibly need. The other two pairs of pants were slightly darker versions of the ones he was already wearing, but the same size. The shirts were black, red, green, and blue, the same non descriptive cut as he the one he was already wearing.

Hiruma hadn't forgotten shoes; he had bought Sena a pair of white Nike shoes, along with a package of socks.

His new backpack was full of zippers and was completely black – along with the clothes; he put a toothbrush and toothpaste in it, mouthwash, and a pack of socks, a nail clipper, the deodorant, and a handful of travel size shampoo and conditioner bottles.

"Thank you Hiruma," Sena said, once everything was in the bag. Hiruma grunted – he was going through a large yellow book, probably looking for something to eat. Despite all the new things Sena had just gotten, he couldn't help but to feel that he was missing something.

He glanced up at Agon, who was reading another one of his smut magazine; with a title so embarrassing that Sena couldn't eve process it. However, the magazine was a mental bridge for him – books, did Sena like to read? Something in his gut told him rather soundly, _yes. _It would be nice, to have a book, just something to absorb other than avoiding eye contact with Hiruma and Agon.

However, it wasn't right to ask for one at the moment, as Hiruma had just spent an awfully lot of money on clothes and such.

"Pizza?" Hiruma asked but, flipped the page before anyone could give their input. He apparently settled on something, because he whipped out a phone and shot out an order too fast for Sena to follow. Seeing Sena's curious look, Hiruma explained. "We're having sushi for dinner," he said and Sena smiled weakly. Sushi sounded better than pizza again.

Agon sat up abruptly, flinging his magazine to the side. "Fuck this, I'm going out," he said bending down to stuff on his shoes. Sena was about to ask him something, but remembering the rule, clammed his mouth shut.

Agon stood up and momentarily glared at his own reflection in the mirror over the TV. Noticing Sena's expression he sneered at the boy. "Rule 2, don't fucking look at me like that," Agon snapped and Sena blinked, surprised.

"Huh?" He said stupidly but Agon ignored him, storming out of the room.

Hiruma turned on the TV, and Sena started to pick up the empty bags, before glancing at Hiruma through his eyelashes. A nauseating sensation ran through his stomach. He was alone with Hiruma – now what?


	5. Chapter 5

**An update! Hurrah! Please read and reply, it shows me you care. Unlike dead mice. Not cool Jerry. Not cool. **

Hiruma did not like mysteries.

Not in movies or books, and hated them with an undying passion when involved in his personal life.

And Sena Kobayakawa was a mystery.

What motive did the Boss have to demand the brat's arrival in Lima?

While it could just be another test, to shame the two with living failure, or maybe to test their loyalty – but the Boss had dropped that major hint.

Sena's last name.

Of course Sena hadn't seemed to remember his last name, making unveiling his history back to the Stone Age, slightly more difficult. To add, Sena wasn't registered to work at that jewelry store. And odd enough, none of the newspapers Hiruma ran through even offered a tidbit of information about a kidnapped boy.

Yes, children were kidnapped every day, but surely a story about a boy being swept away by thieves who also managed to whisk over thirty million in rare stones would be fucking mentioned _somewhere_.

It was the type of story that should've been ran millions of times on every newspaper. But it wasn't and Sena's disappearance was quietly fading the farther they got from Maine.

When the Boss revealed the boy's last name, Hiruma wasted no time with causal introductions. There was information, and he needed to find it.

Sena was a Junior in high school – older than Hiruma thought. On the track team at his school, even won the state championship, however he backed down for the chance to compete nationally. Never took any drama classes, and depressingly normal in every way possible.

Hiruma even managed to dig up his high school yearbook picture. A timid boy glanced meekly into a camera, frozen for Hiruma to analyze. From there on, Hiruma decided to check out the brat's parents.

And came to another dead end.

Yes, there was information about Shuma and Mihae Kobayakawa – dating back until Sena's fifth birthday and then; nothing. No marriage license, no green cards, no homes or credit not the slightest fucking gas receipt that proved before Sena was the age of 5 they existed.

Hiruma wasn't foolish enough to even consider that mentioning the brat's last name had been a slip on the Boss's side. No, he wanted Hiruma to learn this, learn that there was something more to the brat.

The important question now – was Agon in with the Boss? It was oddly convenient that they just _happened _to pick up Sena, who hadn't existed when he should have been getting potty trained.

It seemed unlikely – only because Agon was a horrid actor.

"U-u-uh, Hiruma?"

He grunted and glanced up at the enigma in question. He looked better, now that he wasn't covered in shit and blood. Clothes were fitting for him.

Hiruma raised an eyebrow as his eyes drifted upward. Sena's face was flaming red; he was unconsciously tugging the edge of his shirt. Not which sure what to make of the tell, Hiruma shifted more comfortably on the bed, before motioning for Sena to join him.

After all, with all that blood rushing to his face, the boy was surely doomed to pass out sooner or later. Sena climbed onto the bed, his body stiff and moving robotic. Hiruma hardly noticed; he was busy hacking into all of his phones records to see if there had been any calls he hadn't known about at the day of the robbery.

"So, um, H-Hiruma," Sena stuttered and Hiruma grunted at him. How far back should he check? Agon could've gotten the call long before they even went to Maine. It would take hours, checking the phone records to his calendar, making sure that each call to the Boss had been made under his terms.

Not to count, he would have to determine if the number was actually the boss's and not some shitty sex line or Thai restaurant. That would take time and constant internet access.

Something warm pressed against Hiruma's shoulder. If he hadn't been so entangled in his thoughts, it wouldn't have surprised him. However, Hiruma had completely forgotten about Sena, so he turned to the boy surprised.

He was red faced and instantly his deep bronze eyes fleeted away from Hiruma's own. His hand was shivering against Hiruma's skin and he looked prepared to either barf or explode from so much blood in his face. Hiruma wasn't stupid – he realized what was going on.

This had to be proof then, that the boy really did lose his memory. No normal kid could manage to pull off such a downright serious act.

But, this wasn't a normal kid, Hiruma reminded himself. This was a kid who managed to not exist until the age of five. Hiruma was lightly amused, as the boy's face only brightened faster. It was rare that his first impersonations were ever wrong, as Hiruma had spent many years strengthening the skill. He had been sure, that this wasn't the type of brat destined to remain a virgin.

Even despite the bruises and swollen forehead, the boy was good looking with a fair face, clean complexion, soft hair, and impressive brown eyes.

However, his current reaction was that of a frightened twelve year old at her older sister's orgy. Yes, Hiruma didn't like mysteries but he was a man easily fascinated. Anyway, he could think of this as a test, a test to examine just how well Sena was buying the whole "man love" story.

Hiruma closed his laptop and placed it on the table. With a manically grin, he sat up and dropped a leg on the opposite side of Sena. Not wanting to crush the kid, he held onto the backboard before lowering his head, inches from the brat.

Surely, it wasn't natural for a face to be that red, Hiruma mused to himself. But it blended nicely with the brown in his eyes. "Uh-um-er, I," the kid managed to sputter.

Hiruma almost felt guilty tricking the boy into this. His diagnosis was rapidly changing. This was obviously a brat who was "waiting for marriage" or some utter bullshit like that. If that was a girl or some dick wasn't really the matter. He probably hadn't even kissed before, the depressing pansy.

Of course Hiruma wasn't going to do the deed – just because the boy was 98% obviously a virgin didn't mean that the chance of STDs vanished.

Oh, and there was the Boss to consider.

Whatever excitement Hiruma might have had south of the brain died instantly. He had no idea what the Boss wanted with this brat. As far as he knew, there could be a bullet waiting for the kid as soon as they got to Ohio. Or he could be the eye candy to one of the Boss's "friends". No, there really wasn't much Hiruma could do to this kid without fucking himself completely over.

Pretending not to be as disappointed as he felt, Hiruma leaned back, let go of the board, and swung his leg back over to the other side of the bed.

He wasn't prepared for Sena's gasp. "Wait! I-I'm sorry!" Hiruma turned to tell the brat some B.S when – lips, surprisingly soft – press against his. Sena had grabbed his shoulder and had a handful of Hiruma's shirt entwined in his fist.

This was unexpected.

Hiruma shifted, weighting on his current options. He couldn't just ignore the lies he told Sena, couldn't pretend a false break up, and was rather enjoying himself. So he examined Sena's kissing ability. Poor – but room for improvement. Sena couldn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

He had released Hiruma's shirt, but now they were twitching inches from their faces. Hiruma's own were pressed against the sides of Sena's face. He didn't remember doing that. Oh well, the boy tasted like mint – must've just brushed his teeth.

_Bzzz._

The door. Food.

As he pulled away, Hiruma couldn't help but to bite on Sena's bottom lip. It was his thing. He slipped off the bed, scolding himself as blood started to return to his mind, from its preferred location. God – he was acting like Agon, defying logic for physical gain.

After double-checking that the delivery boy was Keith Wong (Hiruma had gone through records earlier to find out the working delivery boys) and that he wasn't obviously wired, Hiruma opened the door just wide enough to feed cash and a tip to the teenager and to bring the food inside without the kid being able to see Sena.

"Sushi," Hiruma said, turning back to the still red faced brat.

Fuck.

Hiruma was going to have to watch himself around the pipsqueak. Yes, Sena was harmless, but his situation wasn't. And it was only a matter of time until his memory returned. The last thing Hiruma needed was his logic being affected.

0000000

"Are you an idiot?" Mamori surprised herself with how angry her tone was.

They were still sitting outside of the Kobayakawa's apartment and she was starting to sweat from the rising heat in the car. She had always liked Maine for the nice chill, but ever since Sena was taken a heat wave seemed to be raging through the east.

"My I.Q is far above average, if that is what you are insinuating," Shin said and Mamori pushed her bangs off her forehead. It had been the utter certainty in Shin's tone that had sent her heart racing. But it was quickly fading, and being replaced with anger; anger at Shin for what he was saying about Sena's family, and anger at herself for not instantly realizing that he was wrong.

"No, I – what do you mean, that Shuma and Mihae aren't Sena's parents?" Mamori asked and Shin turned the ignition on and shifted into drive. He explained as he pulled out of the parking spot and into the street.

"Shuma and Mihae Kobayakawa are not Japanese," he said. And if it weren't for the layers of muscle, Mamori would've attacked him. How could he make such claims with an utterly coherent and simplified nature?

"Shin, I promised myself and to the captain that I would not let my emotions compromise my place in this case. However, if you don't explain I will crash this car," Mamori warned. She attempted to lighten her threat with a smile, but it came out more as a grimace. Shin didn't seem to notice anyway.

"The first thing Mihae Kobayakawa did was hug, not common for Japanese, she didn't make us take our shoes off, another mistake against culture, in the hall leading to the kitchen, there was a picture of a Korean vase, Shuma Kobayakawa's lateral canthus slant downwards – a common Korean trait, the cheekbones were more prominent, Mihae Kobayakawa had already prepared tea, meaning that she was awaiting our arrival, she prepared a traditional Chinese oolong tea which is rare in Maine, since the oolong leaves were wrap-curled which is the more traditional of the two, and a process she would've learned herself. The "family" tattoo on her wrist is covering a smaller tattoo of "love" written in Korean, and in kanji."

"Oh-okay, enough," Mamori said, only to get him to be quiet. There was no way that Shin was telling the truth. And anyway, what he was saying was impossible. Mamori remembered, when Sena first came to the school, all he could speak was Japanese.

Mihae and Shuma spoke it too; they had green cards, and invited her along to a Japanese cuisine place for Mihae's birthday.

Mamori's anger had vanished and instead she felt sick as if someone had dumped acid directly into her stomach and it was eating away at the lining. It was Sena's kidnapping all over again. Getting the call – the call that there had been a robbery at Doburoku's jewelry store.

Shin was quiet as she digested his information.

And then, she was angry all over again. Damn it! _Claims, inferences, _but not information; saying that Shin had just given her information was to suggest that she believed that Mihae and Shuma weren't Sena's parents.

The next thing she realized, they were back at the station. Just looking at the building made Mamori sick. She wanted to be alone, wanted to get away from Shin, and his theories. How could someone as sweet as Sena stand a creep like him?

Thinking Sena's name made her stomach drop.

And then, calm washed over her. She was going to find Sena. That's all that mattered, she was going to find and save Sena. Nothing else mattered, not Shin's theories or how sexist the men in the station were – she couldn't even eat a sandwich without snarky glances.

Mamori dimly realized that she had her head rested against the hot dashboard and that her bangs were starting to sweat from the heat of the car. She sat up and calmly got out of the car. "Shin, unless your theories have something to do in direct consequence to this case, please keep them to yourself. Now I need to review some of the cases involving the drug boys at the high school. We need to leave by 14 hundred hours, so you should do the same."

He simply nodded and Mamori's stubborn brain couldn't help but to scream, _Sena, why are you wasting your time with a strange guy like that?_

**Later…**

It took less than 25 hours for Mamori to accept that Shin's theory was more than a theory. While it helped that he was a genius, having solved a number of crimes, and surely destined someday to get into the Homicide department of any city he wanted.

Not only that, but Mamori learned the unavoidable truth that Shuma and Mihae did not exist. Or at least, not until they moved to America, when Sena was five. However, that lead could wait. She was still sore from not realizing it as fast as Shin, and she still had the drug boys to talk to.

While she hadn't found any coherent ties between the drug bust at the high school and the jewelry kidnapping, something in her gut just knew that it was far too convenient. So, Mamori shoved away thoughts of Mihae and Shuma's true origins and instead worked on what her gut was telling her.

And her gut was telling her that Kazuki Juumonji knew something that he wasn't telling.

Out of the three, he was the only one that gave her the sense that he was holding something back. And Mamori felt that it had something to do with Sena. It wasn't easy getting everything set up though. He was still underage after all.

"Hello, can I call you Kazuki?" Mamori asked as she sat across from the young boy. He sat slouched in the chair, a sour expression covering his body. There was a nasty scar on his cheek, but healed and old. He wore a navy blue jumpsuit, with Juvenile written in stark black letters on the back.

Another cop had already removed his handcuffs at Mamori's request, but to her irritation stayed close to the door. She was a cop – she could manage her own.

But no, she had to keep her head cool, focus on the task at hand.

"No," the boy finally said and Mamori shrugged. "Juumonji then?" She offered, forcing her voice to be light and causal. Even to her it sounded horribly awkward.

"I remember you," Juumonji said, without answering. She wasn't sure if this was a sudden revelation or if he simply wanted to ignore her. Juumonji leaned forwards in his chair, his eyes locked on Mamori, searching for something. "You're not here 'cause of the smack," he said suddenly and Mamori shrugged.

"Maybe," she said but he didn't seem the least fazed. "This is about the Sena kid, right?" He demanded and Mamori managed to surprise herself by keeping the ball of emotion from rising any higher in her throat. For a moment, Mamori felt speechless, but something about Juumonji made her positive that he wasn't the type would listen to condescending police talk. He was smart, a lot more than most adults gave him credit for.

"I think that you know something Juumonji, about Sena, and you're keeping it a secret," she said and he instantly slipped back into his chair. "Why would I know anything about Sena? The kid was weird," he muttered shifting his eyes around the room.

There wasn't much to see. The police station was far too small for an actual interrogation room, so they were using the old staff room, which was hardly the size of a walk-in closet. A basic folding table sat between them, completely blocking Juumonji from Mamori. Not that she felt particularly threatened by the boy.

She knew his type from school. A low cut druggie, smoked pot with Dad's money and would hover around gas stations waiting for someone to buy him a pack of cigarettes.

Earlier that day a camera had been installed in the far corner of the room, where it would get the best shots of Juumonji, so that at Shin could monitor her work. Maybe his strange, genius mind would pick up on something she missed.

"Juumonji, I know you knew Sena, you're in the same grade, _J _is right before _K _in the alphabet. You must've sat by him in class, been partnered up – something," Mamori said and laid out the picture she had taken from Sena's desk.

Sena had never been the vain sort, so a picture of just Sena was rather rare. However, in her senior year at high school, between following her father's footsteps as a police officer, Mamori had a short burst where she wanted to be a photographer.

Her model of choice at the time, just happened to be Sena, because he was the only one willing to stand awkwardly still for long hours without complaining while Mamori nagged about lighting. Out of all the pictures she took, the one framed was probably the best. Out of pure accident, Mamori had managed to snap her camera at the same time a dazed expression washed over Sena's face.

The lightening was just right in the photo so that Sena's hair streaked gold and his eyes were full and dark. He had just started to turn her, so his cheek was slightly tilted, away from the camera, while his thick amber eyes started absent mindedly into the distance.

Juumonji swallowed when he saw the picture.

"What help would it be anyway?" He suddenly snapped, crossing his arms tightly. "Sena's still gone – and it's been longer than 48 hours, whoever took him is far gone by now," if he had literally stood up and punched Mamori in the face, it would hurt less than this.

However, she let her emotions fade into the background. She had been right, Juumonji knew something. It was there, brewing under the green in his eyes.

"That's true, and that's why at this point Juumonji, anything could be important, even if you don't feel like it is, it might be the thing that could help bring Sena home." She said forcing her breath to remain calm, forcing her expression to remain passive, without a sliver of malice.

Juumonji stirred uncomfortably in his metal chair and dropped his eyes to the ground. "I don't have anything to tell you," he muttered. Mamori swallowed, forcing her disappointment and anger back. "I don't believe you Kazuki," she said as gently as she could. However, a level of force was staring to swell and she refused to drop her glare.

He gritted his teeth and clammed his hands together. "I told you to call me Juumonji," he muttered but Mamori could _sense _it, he was ready to tell her something. "At this point Kazuki, you're not really calling the shots here. The only reason you're not headed to prison for possession for the heroin is because you're seventeen. You're birthday is only around the corner, if you think Juvi is tough, you're in for a surprise." She said and he remained hunched over, glaring at her like a snake cornered.

"And, if some evidence comes up that you knew something – _anything _that would help us find Sena, then that's a crime Juumonji. And you can be in prison for a long time with that added to your record." Mamori said.

Juumonji jerked his head back up and finally stared back into her eyes. "It's not what you think, okay? It's got nothing to do with Sena getting kidnapped, it's…personal." He said before glancing behind himself, at the door he had entered. "And if you don't any other questions, then I think our time is over." He said, and sure enough his guard chose then to open the door.

Feeling drained, Mamori motioned for Juumonji to leave.

Already chain-cuffed, the guard led Juumonji out of the room, giving Mamori a nod as he went. She managed a feeble smile, before slinking into her own chair, and running her hands through her hair. How could this feel so pointless? Boys don't simply disappear, there had to be clues. Just a scrap of some information would do at this point.

She literally had nothing.

The witnesses had all drawn up different descriptions of the jewelry burglars. The only clear description was that one was tall, young, and muscular while the other was old and well-dressed. From there, it seemed to be random.

No one had reported seeing any cars leave and they didn't hear a peep on any shady men stalking the jewelry store at odd hours.

It was as if Sena had been abducted by ghost.

000000

Sena didn't remember hearing Agon return to the motel room.

When he woke up the next morning though, he could clearly see Agon over Hiruma's more narrow frame. Both were still asleep, Agon making strange half-grunts while Hiruma might as well been a corpse. A corpse that hogged all the blankets.

Sena opened his eyes with chilled skin, only the thin white sheet still covering half of back. Hiruma had managed to wrap himself practically in a cocoon of sorts and other than the slightest rise of his chest, he didn't move. He was faced towards Sena though and his expression was mildly serious, familiar to when he crouched over his laptop.

Due to a certain pressure low in his stomach, Sena gently slipped off the bed, not wanting to wake up Hiruma. He didn't even stir as the bed creaked, the springs in it released from Sena's weight.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sena moved through the dimly lighted room. Enough light was filtering through the tightly shut blinds so he could maneuver through the room without tripping over anything.

After done with the toilet, Sena washed his face with a "facial" bar in the sink which left his skin feeling pleasantly soft before returning to the main room. With the other two still sleeping, Sena positioned himself in the chair in the corner. He was too awake to climb back in the bed and passively attempt to get some blankets back from Hiruma.

His stomach grumbled and thoughts of a warm blueberry muffin settled into Sena's mind. Did the motel have free breakfast? He wasn't sure, Agon had made him carry his heavy duffle bag into the room for him and Sena hadn't been able to see over it.

Spying a couple flyers next to the T.V, Sena leaned over to pick them up.

Truth be told, Sena's appetite had been moderately ruined the night before, since his stomach had still been in knots from basically getting rejected by Hiruma.

Some kinder part of Sena's mind attempted to scorn him for thinking that way, but Sena couldn't help it. That's how it had seemed. Sena's stupidity at what he was supposed to be doing must have been just as blaringly obvious as it had felt. No wonder Hiruma had told him that tidbit on hotels raging with bedbugs.

Even though Sena couldn't remember the first details of a relationship – he was pretty confident that sharing disgusting facts wasn't part of the ritual. And to be honest, Sena felt horrible about how his unprompted advanced ended. Not only that, but a little disappointed to. He wasn't sure why, but Sena had held some shred of hope that if doing something Old Sena would've his memories might return.

A foolish thought, he knew, but that didn't mean Sena wanted it to happen any less.

They did serve breakfast!

Scanning around the room, Sena's eyes landed on the silver card laying on the table between the beds. Headed over, he couldn't help but to glance at Agon. While Hiruma seemed to be a vampire, Agon slept fidgety with his brow twitching and muscles occasionally flexing. His dreads were sprawled across the bed like the reaching tentacles of an octopus.

Agon still confused him, with his Rules from the night before and the immobile anger that seemed to radiate from even behind his glasses. Sena honestly couldn't understand why he agreed with Hiruma to pick up someone hitchhiking who looked like Agon.

Sena slipped the card off the table, before picking up his pair of pants from the night before. He took off the shirt he had slept in, choosing to wear the green one instead, and added deodorant. He stuffed the card in his pocket and slowly opened the door.

Agon groaned and Sena grabbed the frame of the door, leaning back into the room for a last glance just to make sure that he hadn't awoken Agon by accident. He heard a deep sigh and continued on his way downstairs.

He hardly had a chance to see the motel yet, Hiruma had ushered him straight to the room the night before and Sena was starting to go stir crazy, being stuck in the back of the van and then the motel room. Until his memories returned, Sena couldn't even entertain himself with his thoughts.

He wandered down the boring hall of stained carpet and light blue wallpaper to a staircase, covered in more of the carpet. After stumbling down a flight of stairs, he followed his nose to the breakfast room. It was laid out like a cafeteria or an all-you-can-eat buffet, with tables full of food on the left side of the room and small tables to the right.

It looked as if someone had half-hearty attempted to decorate the room, with fake flower placements on each table and a few pastel paintings in bland frames hung onto the walls, after this, they seemed to have called it a day though.

A large window overlooked a parking lot and a boring road. After scanning for a few moments, Sena caught sight of the van parked behind a large tree, not even in a parking spot.

The only two other people in the room, one was a thick burly man wearing a buttoned up red flannel jacket and a hat tugged low over his face. He had a coffee mug next to him and was pounding down on an ancient looking computer duller and vastly thicker than Hiruma's. The other was hidden behind a large newspaper in a plush chair in the corner of the room.

Sena shuffled up to the food and stared blankly at it. His memories were so infuriating, he could name all the foods in front of him, but he had no idea what his preference on any of them was. With a shake of the head, Sena simply piled his plate with as much variety as he could carry.

He sat down a comfortable distance away from the computer guy and newspaper man, before noticing a magazine on the table next to his. He swiped it before sitting down and curiously flipped through it. Finding some moderately interesting about a real life planet similar to something Sena h couldn't pronounce from _Star Wars _which the only thing his mind could explain, was a movie involving a giant slug beast.

Sena ate and read, deciding that he liked waffles but not scrambled eggs, and that there was something missing that he liked on his toast. A spark lit in Sena's brain, this was what he had been lacking – reading, he liked to read.

"So who do you think is going to win?"

Sena glanced up surprised at the young man standing behind him. Behind a pair of glasses, his eyes were directed to Sena's magazine and Sena flipped over to the cover to see what the man was talking about. _American Idol, _it said, which his mind came depressingly empty to.

"Um, I don't know," he said and the man nodded as if agreeing. "I haven't been watching either really. Oh, wow, – you're not even on the article," he said with a small smile and Sena responded with a replica. This guy was being nice, nicer than even Hiruma had been so far.

Sena was starting to assume that everyone was just kind of a jerk.

"I'm Sena," he said brightly and the man nodded slipping into a chair next to him. "Takami Ichiro," he said shifting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He was nice looking, with dark hair gelled back and wearing white pants and a white wife beater under a dark blue jacket. Very clean and sharp, but he used soft motions, pretty different from Hiruma or Agon.

"So where are you headed Sena?" He asked and Sena smiled again, putting the magazine down. "California, the other guys are just resting up," he said and Takami leaned back in his chair, giving Sena an encouraging smile.

"You and your brothers are driving all the way to California?" He asked and Sena shook his head. "Oh, Agon and Hiruma aren't my brothers," he chewed down a grape and decided that he was indifferent to the taste. At the other table, the huge hulking man had stopped typing, his hands hovering over the keyboard.

Strange, he actually had very thin hands, Sena mused, tasting orange juice. Good, far superior to coffee in taste. "They may not be your brothers, but they are complete nimrods," Takami said and Sena blinked.

"Excuse me?" He said and turned up. His forehead bumped against something cold and a harsh yet dangerously familiar smell overpowered his senses. Takami's eyes were no longer light but cold and calculating and in his hands was a thick mental handgun.

And it was pressed against Sena's forehead.


End file.
